The Best Thing
by Lavender and Hay
Summary: Modern Shulienne AU. Shelagh has something to tell her mother. Contains Turnadette.
1. Chapter 1

**Here is my modern AU! I hope you all like it, I've taken a day off revising for my A levels to write this- not that I took much persuading! Also, I hope none of you think I'm rude because I didn't follow any of the suggestions I was given; they were perfectly good but by the time they arrived my mind had quite run away with itself! I don't know if you'll like it or want more of this or not, but here goes.**

"Mum. I've got to tell you something."

Her daughter's tone was somehow different from a moment ago; it was not ominous exactly, but it was markedly more serious. Julie looked up from her pasta.

"What is it, darling?" she asked, "You aren't in any sort of trouble, are you?"

Across the table from her, Shelagh smiled broadly at her instant concern and for a moment all of her worries were assuaged. Her daughter had always had an expressive face, and she could tell now that nothing was seriously wrong.

"No, Mum," she told her, then, her voice still light, "Unless you murder me for not telling you sooner."

"Why couldn't you tell me?" she asked, frowning slightly and leaning forwards. They had always been good at telling each other things- more often than not there had been nobody else to tell- and it worried her a little that Shelagh hadn't felt able to share it with her.

"I couldn't tell anybody," Shelagh told her, taking a sip of her wine, raising her eyebrows a little,"Don't you want to know what it is first?"

"Yes, of course I do," Julie replied.

Shelagh took a deep breath.

"I'm seeing somebody," she told her.

Julie waited for more, but nothing more came; Shelagh seemed to be waiting for her to say something.

"Well, that's wonderful, darling," she replied earnestly, and then, when Shelagh said nothing, "It is wonderful, isn't it?" growing slightly anxious again, "You're not unhappy with him, are you?"

"No, Mum," Shelagh replied, smiling and rolling her eyes, "We're _very _happy. We want," she took a pause, "We want to get married."

It took Julie a moment to digest that.

"How long has this been going on?" she asked, not accusingly, but her curiosity bordering on the extreme now, "And why couldn't you tell me, sweetheart?" A thought suddenly occurred to her, "You're not _having_ to get married are you?" She gave her a significant look to make sure she understood and to cover up her concern.

Shelagh actually burst out laughing.

"Heaven knows I'm not going to judge you," Julie pressed on, "I'm the last person on earth who could. In fact I'd quite applaud you for having the sense to make sure the man in question was responsible enough to know where his duty lay-..."

"Mother, I'm drinking wine," Shelagh pointed out, "You were a midwife for over twenty years. Do you really think that I'd be drinking it if I knew I was pregnant? Furthermore, I'm possibly one of the most over-qualified medical professionals in the South of England. I'm more than familiar with the workings of various methods of contraception."

Julie took all of this in, saw that it was all entirely reasonable and blinked rather apologetically at her daughter.

"Sorry, darling," she told her.

"We've been together for a few months now," Shelagh replied quite calmly. She was used to it by now that, though not a hysterical woman, her mother was quite given to worrying about her. She smiled at her to show that she was not cross and went on, "Oh, but... it's been going on forever, really. Since I've known him. I couldn't tell you because he's someone from work and we didn't want anyone to know in case they thought it was going to interfere with our work. I couldn't tell anyone, but I wanted to tell you, Mum. Can you understand that?"

"Of course I do," Julie told her, her hand reaching briefly across the table to clasp her daughter's, "But I still don't know who he is. I know he'll probably be too young for me to remember who he is, but-..."

"No, Mum, I think you'll know him," Shelagh corrected her quickly, "In fact I know you do. It's Dr. Patrick Turner."

There was a pause for a few seconds.

"Isn't he the hospital director by now?" Julie asked, caught between being palpably surprised, impressed and slightly confused all at the same time.

Shelagh shook her head, taking another sip of wine.

"He's been offered the job twice," she told her, "But he keeps turning it down. He says it would bore him, it's paper-pushing. And anyway, he sees little enough of his son as it is."

"Yes, I remember, he had a little boy," Julie recollected, "His wife died just before I left. It was so sad. He's not-..." she broke off, reconsidering.

"What?" Shelagh asked her.

"I was going to say, he's not marrying you just for someone to look after his little boy, is he? But it doesn't seem likely, knowing him-..."

Shelagh gave her mother a quick but expressive glance.

"No, Mum, that's not why he's marrying me."

Julie surveyed the contented little smile on her daughter's face.

"You really love him?" she supplied.

"Yes," Shelagh nodded, "I do. He wants to ask your permission," she informed her.

"Good Lord, you have done well my girl," Julie told her, laughing a little, "A real gentleman."

Shelagh giggled a little too.

"I thought I'd better give you a word of warning before he gave you rather too much of a surprise."

"Yes," Julie replied rather wryly, "I imagine it would have given me quite a turn if the man who used to be my boss turned up out of the blue and asked if he could marry my daughter."

Shelagh giggled and then looked at her mother more seriously.

"And what are you going to say to him?" she asked her earnestly.

Julie looked at her levelly.

"Will it make the slightest bit of difference to you if I said no?" she asked her in return.

Shelagh paused.

"You know I don't like to do things if they're going to make you unhappy," she replied slowly, "But in this case I would try to bear it. I want to marry him," she stated simply.

"Then how could I possibly say no?" she asked her.

Unless she was very much mistaken, she saw a tear in her daughter's eye.

"Thank you, Mum," she told her quietly.

"You don't need my permission to do anything," Julie told her softly.

"I know, but I like to have it all the same. And so would Patrick."

"I knew Dr. Turner for many years," Julie reflected, "I saw him work his way up through the ranks at the hospital. We midwives were friends with the nurses in the A and E and we always knew what was going on in the main body of the hospital. He was always mentioned with the very highest regard. If I could part with you to anyone, I think it would be to him."

"You won't have to part with me!" Shelagh told her, "Nothing will be any different to the way that it is now, I'll still come for my supper every Thursday night and we'll still be able to go out on Saturday afternoons. Nothing in the world could stop me. And I've been thinking that sometimes I will bring Timothy round on Sunday mornings after his grandma's been to church."

"His grandma!" Julie repeated, "I feel far too young for _that_!"

"You were young to be a mother," Shelagh reminded her, "But you were the best mum in the world."

Her daughter spoke so simply, so truthfully, without a hint of affectation or flattery. It was no wonder she'd always been wrapped around her little finger.

"I just hope," she continued, with the slightest touch of unease in her voice, "That I'll be able to as well for Timothy as you did for me. He's had a very difficult time. I don't want to make everything harder for him."

"Darling, as you remember I wasn't able to give you an easy time," Julie pointed out.

"Yes, but I was so happy with you-..." Shelagh argued back.

"Well, there you go, then," Julie concluded, "Love. That's all you need. Give him as much love as you can. Competence comes after that. And it will come. Since when was there anything that you couldn't do?"

Shelagh didn't know what to say.

"When you look at us two," Julie continued, putting her glass down and leaning forwards, "From the start, the chances we both had, it's pretty clear which of us should have done better out of life. I had all of the advantages- private girls' school, clarinet lessons, my own pony in the stables, the lot- and I messed it all up because I didn't feel like I was being paid enough attention. My parents were more than generous but they too busy and distant and had three other daughters to think of. I hated it at home, I was so bored. So, at the first opportunity I went to university as far away from home as I could- well, Aberdeen is pretty far- and decided I was going to enjoy myself for the first time in my life."

"And then I came along?" Shelagh supplied, "I must have brought a bit of a stop to all that-..."

"Well, you did," Julie agreed, "There's no denying that. But in the end I wasn't sorry."

"You've never told me all of this before," Shelagh told her, sounding almost awed, "I mean, not all of it, not like this."

"Well whenever you asked I thought you were too young to understand that I definitely didn't plan for you to come long but I never regretted anything less once you did," she told her, "And when I thought you were old enough to understand, you seemed to have decided not to ask."

Shelagh paused for a moment.

"Would you tell me now?" she asked.

"Of course, darling," Julie replied, "I've wanted to tell you for years."

"What was my father like?" Shelagh asked straight away.

Julie paused now, torn between giving her daughter a rounded picture and just speaking as she felt.

"He was beautiful," Julie finally admitted, "He was a gorgeous, gorgeous man. You know I met him at university, and he was so different from all of the boys I met in my own lectures. They all wanted to be doctors to make money out of it. Your father was an art student, but he played the guitar too and he had a beautiful singing voice- it must be where you get it from. Unfortunately, his grasp of responsibility left something to be desired," she finished levelly.

Both of them had long since forgotten about eating.

"I was alone," Julie continued, "Your dad had buggered off and found himself some other girl. I couldn't go home; my parents were very old fashioned about certain things. Either they wouldn't have seen me or they would have kept me locked away like a fallen woman. You would certainly have been put up for adoption. I was nineteen, the thought was unbearable."

"Did you ever-..." Shelagh began, and then stopped.

"What?"

"Did you ever think of getting rid of me?"

"Once," she replied honestly, "As soon as I found out. And discarded the thought as quickly as it came. I can't explain it; I knew I wanted you."

"So what did you do?" Shelagh asked her.

"Well, I had to leave university," she told her, "You know very well, darling, it would have been impossible to do a medical degree with a baby to look after. So I did, and I got a job."

"Was it difficult?" Shelagh asked, "Because you were going to have me?"

"Oh, horrendously," Julie replied, "You have no idea how bigoted some people could be back then, no doubt they still can be, and for a while it felt like the world was made of people like my parents. But I found a job. An old lady with a corner shop and nobody to run it for her took me on and let me the room above the shop to live in. She had no children and she took pity on me. She let me keep you in your pram in the back room and she would come in to look after you if the shop was very busy. We managed very well. She died when you were four. Her name was Shelagh."

"You said I was named after a family friend," Shelagh reminded her, surprised.

"She was," Julie replied, "For those four years, she was practically the only family or friends we had. Except each other."

"I can remember her," Shelagh told her, comprehension dawning on her face, "I called her grandma."

"You did," Julie told her, smiling at her, "That made her very happy. Do you remember, she used to push you in your pram and take you to the park down the street?"

"Very vaguely," Shelagh replied, "I remember feeding the ducks at the park."

"Yes, you liked that," Julie remembered. She paused for a moment. "She left me the shop in her will."

"Really?" Shelagh asked, astonished.

"Yes," Julie replied, "She was extraordinarily kind. I had no idea she was planning to."

"So why don't we live in Aberdeen with a flourishing chain of corner shops?" Shelagh asked her, a glint in her eye, already knowing the answer.

"Can you really see me doing that?" Julie asked her, "Shelagh had told me it was alright if I wanted to sell it on, but she wanted me to have the money to look after you. So that's what I did. And all of a sudden I had more money than I knew what to do with- even if I'd continued to train as a doctor I wouldn't have had that much money at twenty-five. And I was tired of Aberdeen. I wanted to be back in London."

"So you went home?"

"London was never home exactly before then. It was near home but we hardly ever went. London was excitement, London was real life. You'd have thought I'd seen enough of that since I'd left home, but this time I had the money to be able to keep you safe from the harder edges of life. So that's where we went. It was the perfect time to. You hadn't started school yet, and I thought you shouldn't be moved once you had, so we went straight there. And with you at school all day I had time to train to do what I knew I wanted to do. I did my midwife's training when you were in the first years at primary school."

"How did you know you wanted to do that?" Shelagh asked her.

"Well, the urge to look after people hadn't passed," she replied, "It never would, but being a doctor was off the cards by then. When I was expecting you there were these charitable nuns in Aberdeen. They worked as midwives, they ran clinic in the church hall and they looked after me so well, they saved my life, really. I had to stay at the convent a few times when I didn't have a bed, if I hadn't heaven only knows what would have happened to me. I saw the work they did and wanted to do it myself, I knew that I was more than capable of it."

"The nun who delivered me was called Sister Bernadette, wasn't she?" Shelagh asked, "That's how I got my middle name, isn't it?"

"Yes," she replied, "And I have never forgotten her. She was remarkable. She was hardly older than I was but she knew so much more about life. She wasn't unkind, she made no move to judge me in the slightest, but she still managed to make me feel like a silly child. She was inspirational."

"But you never fancied becoming a nun?" Shelagh teased her.

"Darling, if I'd had the temperament to become a nun I wouldn't have needed their help in the first place."

Shelagh laughed again.

"So think of how I messed my chances of an easy, successful life up, and then look at you," Julie told her, feeling pride well in her chest as she looked at her little girl before her, "You were born in a the room above a little corner shop in Aberdeen and you've never looked back since. You did so well at school, you went to Oxford, you've done everything that I ever wanted to do."

"But that's all because of you," Shelagh told her, "Because you loved me so much and always put me first."

"There was nothing else I could have done," she replied, "The moment I held you in my arms, the moment I knew I was carrying you. I couldn't not love you. You're a part of me, the best part. I was just a stupid kid and you made me realise what I wanted to do in life and gave me a reason to do it. We always stuck together, you and I. I owe everything to you."

"I owe everything to you," Shelagh replied after a moment.

"We're even, then," Julie replied.

Shelagh looked down at her plate for a moment.

"You were the best thing that ever happened to me," Julie told her, "And don't you forget it. Don't let any man take you for granted. I know he won't," she added quickly, seeing her daughter open her mouth, "But just don't forget it, darling."

"I won't," Shelagh replied, "Thanks, Mum."

"There isn't any need to thank me, darling," she told her, "So just love the little boy. That's what motherhood is, essentially. That's what life is."

Shelagh nodded.

"Now, I'll go and put these plates in the dishwasher. I've got a tiramisu for pudding. You go and see if you can find us anything decent to watch on TV."

**Please review if you have the time.**


	2. Chapter 2

**It seems I can't stop writing this. This story is now not just Shulienne, this chapter is defintiely more Turnadette. **

Standing on the doorstep and foraging briefly in her handbag, Shelagh fished out her keyring and found the key that Patrick had given her to his house, and let herself in quietly.

"Hello?" the lights in the hallway were all off but she saw a light on at the door to the kitchen, where she heard his voice issuing from.

"Hello," she called back, kicking off her shoes, "It's only me. I let myself in."

The kitchen door opened, throwing light into the corridor, and he came forward in work trousers and his shirt sleeves.

"Hello, darling," he smiled at her, wrapping his arms around her waist and bowing his head to give her a quick kiss, "I thought you were at your mother's."

"I was but when I left I felt a little bit strange. I don't know, I just didn't want to be alone. Is it alright for me to be here?"

"It's never not alright," he told her, his arms still around her, kissing her forehead once, "If you'll recall, I'm trying to keep you here permanently."

She smiled, stood on her tiptoes and kissed her fiancé once on the lips, then took hold of his hand and led him towards the kitchen.

"Timothy's at his grandmother's for the night," he told her, settling himself on the edge of one of the tall chairs by the kitchen counter, "They're taking him up to Oxford to see the cousins tomorrow and they want to make an early start."

She gave him a small smile from across the counter, as if to say "Is he, indeed?" and he grinned back. He did look so devilishly handsome in his rumpled white shirt, with his hair no tidier than his his apparel. She had never found the quietly dishevelled look so attractive before but somehow she adored it on him. She had to blink hard at the counter for a second to clear her head.

"How did you get here?" he asked, "Did you drive or take a taxi?"

"I came on the tube," she told him, "It isn't far from mum's."

"I would have picked you up," he told her, "You know you shouldn't use the tube at night."

"Why not?" she asked, "It only runs at night so that people can use it. You sound just like my mother."

He shook his head at her in mock disbelief, but he could not be stern for very long and was soon smiling at her.

"Do you want some wine?" he asked, "There's a bottle of white in the fridge."

"I'll get it," she told him, "Don't you get up."

"Do you want to go and sit in the living room?" he asked her.

"Go on, then," she told him, "I'll follow you through."

A few moments later they were settled on the sofa, leaning comfortably against each other, his arm wrapped around her waist, with a glass of white wine each.

"Did you talk to your mother?" he asked.

"I was there for three hours," she told him, "It would be pretty awful if we didn't talk for all that time."

"About us?" he pressed.

"Yes, I did," she replied.

"And?"

"Well, she started off by asking if we were having to get married, and then ended up wondering if I'd realised that once we're married we'll both be called Dr. Turner," she told him.

"So she was alright about it?" he asked her, his voice light and hopeful.

"Well she was a bit surprised at first," she conceded, "But then again, who wouldn't be? I usually tell her most things, and this was quite a big thing not to let on about. If I were you I'd go either tomorrow or Saturday to ask her."

"Why?" he asked, "Will she be very offended if I don't do it soon?"

"No, I just think she's looking forward to it," she replied, "I don't think she really expected me to ever get married and now she's quite excited about the whole thing. Not madly so, but she quite likes the idea."

"So she's going to say yes?" he asked her. She felt his hand squeeze a little on her hip.

"Yes, she is," she replied.

"She's not worried about the difference in our ages?" he asked, hardly daring to believe his look by the sound of it.

"I'm not worried about the bloody difference," she told him, as sternly as she thought she could ever be with him, "And if it doesn't bother me-... well, why should she mind, I'm not asking her to marry you? And for your information, she as good as told me that she'd expect me to go ahead with it anyway even if she said no."

"Would you have?" he asked, seriously.

"I think I probably would have done," she told him, looking down at her hand resting over his arm, "But I feel much better knowing that she's happy about it all."

"You love her very much, don't you?" he asked her.

"I do," she replied, "She's my best friend, she always has been."

"I'm sorry you couldn't tell her sooner," he told her.

"It doesn't matter now," she told him, sitting up a little and then resting back against him, "She knows, and she understands. I think she was very impressed, actually, when she found out that it was you. She thought you were quite a catch."

"Really?" she heard amusement in his voice.

"Well, not as much as I do," she clarified, "I hope."

He laughed openly at that.

"Did she never marry again?" he asked, "After your father?"

"She never even married my father," she told him bluntly.

"Oh," he replied, a little taken aback, "I'm sorry, I just assumed."

"It's alright, you weren't to know. She told me everything tonight, actually," she told him, "He didn't treat her badly exactly, except that he didn't seem to grasp the fact that he should have taken care of her once he'd got her into trouble."

"Really?" he asked her, sounding genuinely appalled.

She nodded.

"She always seemed so nice," he told her, "The times I met her at work. Of course, she knew her way round far better than I did, even when I was given my first senior position."

"She's had to cope with a lot," she continued, "More than I ever really realised until now. But she was pretty lucky too, once she met some people who weren't as feckless as my dad had been. Still, she raised me with almost no help. I didn't know how brave she'd been. It made me feel sorry for her, but it's impossible to tell her that, she doesn't like anyone to feel pity for her. I think that's why I didn't want to be alone tonight."

He bowed his head, kissed the top of her hair.

"You don't have to be," he told her, "You never have to be."

She felt herself smile, and her eyes fall shut.

He must have felt her posture droop a little.

"Are you tired?" he asked her, "You must be; you can't have had an easy day."

"I'm not too bad," she told him, "But I wouldn't mind going up to bed."

She knew he was smiling with his eyes closed too.

"Shelagh," he murmured, kissing the top of her head again, but more slowly this time, more closely, Darling."

They had both long since discarded their wine glasses, and she was able to turn in his arms to face him, to let him brush his lips softly against hers. She loved the way he held her, so gently, yet making her feel certain that he would never let her slip away. He was so unlike any other man she'd known or been with, and she was certain that this was where she waned to be, for the rest of her life. There was nothing resembling doubt or hesitation in her mind as she took him by the hand and led him up the stairs to his room, which was fast becoming their room.

He held her close to his body, pressing kisses into her face, her lips, her hair.

"Darling," he murmured, "You know I won't ever let you down? I will never stop wanting to keep you safe."

"I know," she replied, between breaths, kissing him back, "I know."

**Please review if you have the time. **


	3. Chapter 3

"Come on, darling," she called up the stairs, "We did say ten o'clock and we're going to be late if we don't get a move on."

There was the sound of hurried footsteps above and then a brief pause. Then the footsteps moved to the top of the stairs and she looked up to see him descending hurriedly towards her.

"Sorry," he told her as he reached her at the foot of the stair, all ready with her coat and handbag while he had to take his quickly down from the peg and hurry his way into it, "I couldn't decide which tie to wear. Is this one alright?"

"Dashing," she told him wryly, pulling his scarf down from the same peg and arranging around his neck for him, "I'm knocked off my feet. Honestly," she smiled at him in something close to exasperation as they made their way out of the door, "There was no need for you to wear a tie. You're going to see my mother not your old headmaster! You don't have to be so formal!"

"Well, I'm going there in quite a formal capacity," he replied seriously, having locked the door, following her down the steps to his car and unlocking the doors so that they could both clamber in.

"Oh, yes, I forgot," she teased him, "You're off to negotiate my dowry with the head of the family."

He looked at her not quite sternly but still with more gravity than she, up until now, had been affording him.

"Now, Shelagh, don't be silly," he told her, "Do you think your mother will mind if we're late?"

His voice sounded strained and she saw that he was more nervous than she'd realised up until now. She had just assumed that he would know there was no need at all to be scared of her mother. He really did want to make a good first impression, and she remembered some of the conversations they had had when it had been transparently obvious that he thought he didn't deserve her.

"She won't mind," she told him gently, taking his hand off the steering wheel for a moment and just holding it in hers, "Well, she might a little bit at first, but she'll get used to the fact that we're always late. It doesn't matter. She's going to love you," she stated confidently, "She's going to love you because she'll realise how happy you make me. I've already told her, but today she'll see it for herself."

He was quiet for a few moments, then, squeezing her hand back, he raised it to his lips and placed a brief but passionate kiss over her knuckles.

"What would you want with an old fool like me?" he murmured, his gaze glancing upwards and only just meeting hers. He looked shy, his voice was quiet.

She thought of him holding her the night before, cradling her in his arms after they made love, making her feel adored.

"I want everything with you," she told him, "I want everything in the world. And I will never be able to get enough."

Stretching up in her seat, she leant forwards and pressed a kiss into his forehead, beneath the slight unruliness of his hair, which he had tried to tame into submission in honour of the occasion.

Falling back into her seat she told him;

"Now drive me to my mother's and ask her if it's alright for you to marry me."

…**...**

It was a warm day, and they sat in the little garden behind the house. For the first two hours they had simply talked: Julie had the kettle on when they arrived and they had made their first introductions. Patrick had said that he remembered Julie from when she had worked at the hospital, and Julie had been pleasantly surprised by that. All the time they talked to each other they had never addressed the matter at hand directly; both Patrick and Julie seemed to think it would be unfair of them to discuss it in front of Julie. They had accepted the invitation to stay for lunch and they ate in the dining room with the French doors open, before going back to the garden.

After the meal Shelagh had said that she would do the washing up, leaving her mother and Patrick alone for the first time.

"You have a very nice house," he told her, "The garden is beautiful."

"Yes," she agreed pleasantly, there was no point in denying it, "I was very fortunate to come by this place. I got it for a very decent price, but that was before it became fashionable to live here. I suppose Shelagh will sell her flat," she added thoughtfully, "When she comes to live with you?"

He could not deny that the abrupt change in topic took him a little by surprise and it took him a moment to change mental gears. They were no longer making any kind of small talk, it was now one of the most important conversations of his life.

Julie smiled at him warmly.

"Let us not pretend, Dr. Turner," she told him, not unkindly, "That you're not just here for the sole reason of wanting to marry my daughter."

He smiled at her way of putting it.

"I was forewarned, you know," she told him, a slight glint in her eye, "Shelagh has always been the kindest of human beings- not that I take any credit for that, that's simply the way she is- and she would never risk the chance of either of us being upset by something we weren't expecting. I know your intentions, and no doubt you know what I'm going to say about them. So just say what you want to, and then I will say my piece."

He inhaled deeply.

"Mrs-..." he tried to begin.

"Julie," she corrected him, "The Mrs is a tenuous concept anyway."

"Julie," he repeated, "I love Shelagh very much. We have been together for four months but even before then I knew I loved her. We became very close after my late wife died, she did what she could to make my life at work easier and gradually she became completely indispensable. That's to say, I don't think I could live without her now. I assure you that my intentions towards her are strictly honourable; I want us to get married at the first possible opportunity."

Julie paused, taking all of this in.

"Are you and Shelagh living together now?" she asked him, a slight frown creasing her brow, "If you don't mind the enquiry."

He wondered if his answer would change her mind.

"Not officially," he told her, "But in effect..."

"It keeps working out that way?" she finished for him, and he nodded, "Good," she replied decisively, "I think Shelagh's disposed to feel quite lonely sometimes. I'm glad she's not alone."

She gave him a small but seemingly very genuine smile.

"Have you talked about practical things with her?" she wanted to know, "I don't mean about the wedding, that can always be seen to, and I don't imagine two intelligent people like yourselves will have too many disagreements over place settings. I mean things like part-time work child care- I know you have a son, Doctor, I'm not fishing for any grandchildren just yet-, how many cars you're going to have?"

"We discussed most things before I proposed to her," he told her, "Except," he continued, "There was one thing that I wanted to ask you about."

"Anything," Julie told him, "Anything at all."

"There is the question of... our earnings. I am aware that Shelagh earns just as much as I do, and if she were to accept a promotion she'd probably earn more than I do. Would you feel better if we had a pre-nuptial agreement?"

For a moment, Julie looked genuinely askance.

"Have you mentioned this to Shelagh?" she asked him.

"No," he replied, "Why?"

"Don't," she told him bluntly, "It will break her heart."

He was quiet for a moment.

"I know you only suggested it with the very best intentions, Doctor," she told him, looking at him very sincerely, "And I thank you for taking my opinion into consideration. But for heaven's sakes, never mention that to Shelagh. This I gather from what she said to me on Thursday night," she told him plainly, "She loves you, she wants to be with you forever, she doesn't want anyone else. So don't ever let her doubt that that's what she's getting. Do you understand that?"

He nodded.

"Perfectly," he replied.

"And do you understand what I'm entrusting you with?" she asked him, not a hint of lightness in her voice, no unkindness either, her tone was completely straight and open, "My daughter is my whole life, and has always been. Nothing else is important next to her happiness. If you hurt her I would not be able to answer for the consequences."

He nodded again.

"I understand that too," he replied, then added, "I didn't expect anything less."

She seemed satisfied.

"Then, Doctor, I would like it very much if you married my daughter," she told him, smiling, "And I wish you all the happiness in the world."

**Please review if you have the time. **


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